


Professor...

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Professors, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: A shameless smutty one shot for KB's birthday!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Neville Longbottom
Comments: 37
Kudos: 296
Collections: Best of NevMione, WWW Bday Bash 2020





	Professor...

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Katie!!! Thanks for listening to Wine, Wands, and Waffling and I hope you're okay with some Nevmione co-worker smut. 
> 
> Unbeta'd... forgive me.

“Professor Longbottom.” The simple greeting caused her vocal cords to tighten, her breath coming in only sharp huffs as she watched him shrug his robes on. The staff room was quiet this early in the morning, but even with the handful of other teachers present, she dare not let her voice betray her.

“Hello, Professor Granger. Exciting day planned?” His smile was contagious, drawing one from her as well, and she could feel the nerves planted the night prior riot.

“No more so than usual. And you?”

“Mandrakes with first years—pray for me.” They shared a quiet laugh as he lofted his belongings into his arms and took a step towards her, his eyes visibly darkening. “I was wondering if I might visit you during your work hours.”

Something delightful churned deep in her belly, and wetting her lips she could only nod. His grin impossibly widened and he bid her a quiet goodbye, and with an armful of books retreated from the staff room.

Once he was safely through the door, she sagged, falling back in her seat and burying her face in her palms. Leave it to Hermione Granger to get herself into a mess like this.

xXx

The morning classes passed quickly. Early in the week her DADA students worked on theoretical magic, switching to practical lessons after Wednesday. So, there was a short lecture and then they were divided into teams to work on an essay, which left Hermione’s mind free to roam.

Free to remember large hands gripping her waist and strong arms hoisting her easily so her ankles could latch together behind his back. Free to remember the flesh memories of his lips trailing up her thigh and _finally—_

“Um, Professor Granger?”

Her eyes snapped open, blowing wide and worried. “What!”

“Um, well, we were wondering if we were dismissed? Its over five after… ”

Hermione’s eyes shot up to the clock and she bristled, swallowing hard and nodding. “Yes, of course.” Splaying her hands on the top of the desk, she swiftly rose to her feet. “Class dismissed! I’ll see you Wednesday and make sure to bring your defensive gear.” She attempted a smile but it came off like a grimace.

Falling back into her seat, she mentally berated herself for being such a ridiculous— _and lecherous_ —teacher. She was meant to be imparting wisdom on a new generation of magical children and yet, here she was, fantasising about her co-worker and friend.

It was Neville. She’d known him when he was still the clumsy, bumbling first year who was scared of his shadow. She’d also watched him save her and Ron’s life by slaughtering the final Horcrux. Now, he was somewhere in between—tall and lean but still strong. He constantly smelled like coffee and damp earth and she noticed that he often put too much sugar in his tea. He seemed to realize he did it too because he’d wince and suck his tongue between his teeth but still, he’d drink it.

At any given moment he’d have a smudge of dirt on his face and often his oxfords were a bit wrinkly. The sleeves of said Oxford were always rolled up just below his elbows so he could toil in the greenhouse, working hands on with his students rather than stuck inside with the rest of them.

_Neville._

Craning her neck, she brought her fingers up to the tight muscle of her neck, fingers gliding over the tender spot he’d marked the night before that she’d been forced to glamour this morning. Her eyes fluttered shut and it wasn’t until the hitch of the door that she remembered she was _still_ sitting at her desk.

When her eyes reopened, Neville was standing there, sporting a sheepish smile. His robes were gone, sleeves again rolled up and hands jammed in his trouser pockets. He peered up through his lashes at her as though he’d been caught misbehaving.

“Hi, Neville!” Hermione’s voice was too bright, pitching to an uncomfortable decibel as she rose swiftly to her feet. “You said you wanted to see me. Was everything alright?”

She scarcely allowed herself to hope as he sauntered down the aisle of desks. His tie was loose, the top button of his shirt undone and she knew it had nothing to do with his visit here and everything to do with the heat of the greenhouse but, _Merlin._

“Quite alright,” he said, head bobbing as one hand left his pocket, finger tips trailing down the desktops one by one. She didn’t dare speak even as he stopped in front of her, his free hand tucking one of her curls back into place. “I know last night was a bit unexpected is all and if you regret it—“

“I don’t regret it!” she rushed, a blush staining her cheeks as she forced the words free. “Do you?”

The question was dangerous and might shatter her precarious sense of delusion she’d allowed for herself, but he quickly shook away her fears. “No, of course not. I never could… I know things are complicated with us working together and being friends and—“

“Ron.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile. “Yes, and Ron. But I quite fancied snogging you… and all the parts after.” The apples of his cheeks darkened, and he couldn’t look at her. Even in this tall, strapping, new body of his, he was still—and would always be—Neville.

Lifting onto her tip toes, she wrapped one hand around his neck, pulling him down to her. Their lips hovered a breath away from each other, their eyes meeting in a quiet dance of consent and with nothing more said, they kissed.

It was so different from the night before, which had been like a band snapping and finally being set free. This was like coming home, like sinking into a lovers embrace. His long arms wrapped tightly around her waist and dragged her into him.

It was her to dart her tongue out, swiping at his bottom lip pillowed between hers, and he opened immediately. As their tongues explored, his hands roamed, squeezing her bum through her robes and then sliding up to palm at her breasts. A low keen sounded from deep inside Hermione, and really she ought to be embarrassed. But then he guided her a few steps until she was pressed against the low edge of her students desk and his thick erection pressed into her hip and embarrassment seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind at the moment.

Pulling back with a gasp, Neville stared down at her with wild, wide eyes and gulped. “Maybe we ought to just wait until later?”

A whinge escaped her, and she shook her head, muttering locking and silencing and contraceptive charms so they were protected from all sorts of unwanted interruptions. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt as she split her thighs, making room for him. “Waited long enough,” she mumbled against his lips.

She yanked his belt loose as his large hands rucked up the fabric of her modest dress, gripping her thighs as she laid back on the table. Neville was frenzied as he worked the first few buttons of her dress, revealing her bra and the gentle swell of her breasts enough to pepper kisses there.

“You’re so beautiful, Hermione. I swear, I’ve been bloody mad for you a decade and I can’t believe—“ he paused to kiss her deeply, his fingers slipping under the cup of her bra and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “That you—“ Another pause and she hitched her knees up over his hips.

She was rather impatient, although she’d no right to be, and while his confessions were lovely and stoked an entirely different kind of desire, she had a rather persistent need to be tended to. Reaching between them she gripped the length of him in her small hands and gasped at the thickness of him. Surely, that had not all fit inside her the night before.

His lips trailed from hers, hiding in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips and pulled her to end of the desk. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. Already wanked it in my office to the thought of you like this again for me.”

She moaned as his words ghosted against her neck. The tip of his cock slotted against her entrance and he pulled up, resting on his palms as he sank into her, studying the way her face transformed into a mask of pleasure.

“Can you take more?” His voice was tight and thick and when she nodded he seemed to sag in relief, pressing forward until he was hilted inside her. “Fuck, you’re incredible, Hermione. Your pussy is so tight.”

The words felt so wrong from Neville’s mouth but at the same time— _so right._ She wanted more of everything, and she clawed at his hips and arse until he was moving steadily inside her, repeating filthy nothings in her ear that made her cunt clench and her back arch into him.

“You take my cock so well, Hermione. So well. Like you were made for me.” He hitched her legs open wider, thrusting impossibly deeper and she feel a hot coil of lust in her belly, begging for release. Standing tall, he loomed over her. One hand stayed firmly on her knee while he moved the other to massage at her sensitive clit.

Merlin help her, but her vision went black and stars filled the void, bursting and coursing through her in wave after wave of unrelenting pleasure. She thought she heard something close to _thank fuck_ from above her but she couldn’t be sure.

Neville drove into her with abandon, the desk legs scraped against the wood floor as he pounded her and with a hard snap of his hips, he was spent, spilling into her as he gripped any bit of flesh he could reach. Head falling back, Neville slowly regained his breath, his fingers massaging the thick of her thigh as he softened and withdrew.

A sleepy, pleasured smile took over her features and she righted her clothes and sat up, pulling him close again. “I have to say, I think this might be the best time I’ve ever had in office hours.”

He laughed, buttoning his trousers and biting down on his lip. “I agree, Professor Granger. Can I see you tonight?”

An entirely new warmth, one that was quieter and seeking contentment, unfurled in her chest and she nodded quickly. “I’d like that, Professor Longbottom.”


End file.
